


Under His Armour

by Smith



Category: Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Angst, Babies, Body Dysphoria, Friendship, Gen, M/M, Pregnancy, Trans Inquisitor, Trans Male Character
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-06-30
Updated: 2016-12-03
Packaged: 2018-07-15 07:47:51
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,282
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7213867
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Smith/pseuds/Smith
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>An unexpected arrival leaves Talassan Lavellan uncertain of his position in the Inquisition.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

The news travels through the fortress over breakfast, between passed bowls of porridge. The Inquisitor's serving girl carries it with her up the stairs to his chambers, and whispers it to him as she lays out his breakfast. "Have you heard?" she asks as she pours tea.

Tal pries himself from the pillow and squints at Rhian, "I doubt it."

"They found a baby, ser," she gushes, her hands trembling slightly.

"A baby?" Both of his eyebrows rise as he pushes himself up, his hands besieged by morning shakes as he reaches for the tea cup and brings it to his lips, blowing away the curling steam.

"Yes, near the servants quarters," Rhian confirms, "Some scared chantry sister that's broke her vows, I reckon."

"That's concerning," he murmurs, setting the cup down and easing himself back against the pillows. "What are they planning to do with it?"

"I'm not sure, ser," Rhian answers as she sets down a tray of preserves and a lightly toasted scone. "But brand new it was, damp and sticky and attached to the afterbirth and everything."

Tal wrinkles his nose. "A little too much information, Rhian."

"Sorry ser," she says with a smile. "They thought he'd be freezing cold, what with the weather the way it is, but he had one of those stuffed nugs that nice Charger boy keeps sewing. It's been _enchanted_ , to stay warm, so they're asking all those Tranquil fellows if they know who enchanted it."

"Any luck so far?" He asks, his long fingers picking at a sultana exposed on the edge of the scone.

"I don't know, ser, it all just happened this morning, before the sun came up."

"I see." Tal's lips press into a thin line and his gaze slides slowly to her. "Can I ask you a favour, Rhian?"

"Of course, ser, anything, ser," she says quickly, her eyes a little wide as she nods.

"Would you fetch me a bottle of wine?" He licks his fingers, and stares at her as he sucks on the last one.

Rhian glances toward the windows, where sunlight still tinged with the gold of dawn is glowing around the edges of the curtains, and chews the inside of her cheek. "Of course, ser."

"Thanks." His voice lowers to a whisper. "Maybe don't mention it to anyone? You can tell anyone who questions you that it's for an important meeting later."

"Of course, ser," she says again, but her voice wavers. "I would never share your private business."

"Oh, don't look at me like that," he mutters with a frown, wiping his hands on his sheets. "I appreciate your discretion."

Rhian nods, her body taut as she takes a step back. "Is there anything else I can do?"

"Not at present," Tal replies with a vague wave of his hand.

"Alright, ser. I'll be back shortly." With a nod, she hurries out.

As soon as he hears the door closes, Tal shoves the tray aside and sinks back into the pillows.

The second knock at the door, a few minutes later, is not Rhian, but one of Josephine's messengers, informing him that his presence is required in the war room.

He waits until after Rhian brings him the wine before he gets dressed and heads down.

When he arrives, _it_ is sitting on Josephine's desk in a basket. Thankfully, it appears to be asleep, all round cheeks with a golden glow, dark eyelashes, and a smoky cloud of hair.

"Not a fan of children, Inquisitor?" Josephine asks as she spots him haunting the doorway.

"I have nothing against them," he says, clearing his throat, "But I don't have much experience with them, so I'm inclined to keep my distance."

"That's fair enough, did Rhian tell you that they found him abandoned near the servant's quarters?"

"She did," Tal replies, wringing his hands. "Unfortunate business."

"It's sad, yes, but I have people investigating," Cullen pipes up, maintaining a healthy distance from the desk himself, and the basket sitting near, but not too near, a flickering candle. "We can't have people thinking the Inquisition is a chantry orphanage."

"Have some sympathy, Commander," Leliana interjects as she enters the room. "A child has lost his mother, and a mother has lost her child, possibly needlessly. If we can find her, we can help." She stands over the little one without fear, but doesn't disturb him. "I have people working on it already. Someone must've seen something suspicious."

"Quite," Josephine adds, "And he is _so_ precious. Look at his little face!"

"Maybe now he's quiet," Cullen mutters.

Tal glances at the Commander. "Was he...?"

"Wailing like a despair demon?" Cullen's eyebrows lift and he nods, rubbing his temple. "Plenty."

Tal walks over to the basket as if he's dragging iron in his boots and stands awkwardly beside it, tentatively folding his arms across his chest. "Has Adan looked at him?"

"Elan has sent word to a midwife working in the refugee camp," Cullen confirms.

Tal scoffs.

"Maker knows why you prefer that cranky old alchemist, Inquisitor," Leliana says.

Tal shrugs and doesn't say anything, his eyes fixed on the infant.

"We've found a nursing mother who's willing to take him. Her child is older, and we've offered to reimburse her."

"Good, that's good," Tal murmurs. "Bring her to Skyhold, if we've room. We'll provide for her and her family."

"Already underway," Cullen confirms. "A room has been prepared."

"Looks like he'll be well looked after, then."

"It's no substitute," Leliana says quietly, her hand resting on the basket beside the baby's head.

Tal takes a breath and holds it for a beat, before turning to Josephine. "Am I required for anything else?"

"Yes, Inquisitor. We need to discuss Lady Arayya's visit."

"Very well," he sighs. "Perhaps someone can remove the child so Josephine and I can talk?"

"Of course, Inquisitor," Leliana says, and tenderly picks up the basket. "I'll take care of him in the meantime."

Tal nods, and once they are alone throws himself into his meeting with Josephine. But as she talks, he gazes out of the window instead, until she takes pity on him and promises to bring these matters to his attention tomorrow; they still have time.

Tal takes the opportunity to sneak back to his quarters, curl up under his blankets, and sleep in fitful spurts.

Rhian brings him toasted bread, thin slices of crispy fried sausage, a wedge of cheese and boiled eggs for lunch. He devours the bread, leaves the eggs and sausage, and nibbles at the cheese.

"Rhian," Tal calls before the girl makes it to the stairs.

"Yes, ser?" she asks, ever dutiful, ever eager to please.

"Would you ask Josephine to send the healer who looked at the abandoned child to my chambers, please? I would like to hear how he is doing."

"Of course, ser." Rhian nods and hurries away, her footsteps like a breath on the stairway.

Tal closes his eyes, and the next thing he knows he's being roused from sleep by a knock and more footsteps, heavier.

"You called for me, Inquisitor?" The woman asks as her eyes settle on him.

"Yes, I did." Tal sits up, and drags his hair out of his eyes as he arranges himself in a manner more befitting the Inquisitor. "Can you tell me more about the state of the child?"

"I examined him," she begins with a nod. "He's a bit small, but not enough to do him any harm. He has a strong heart, a good set of lungs, and took readily to the breast. If he continues to nurse well, I'm not worried about him. But I do hope we are able to find his mother, I would like to examine her."

"Of course," Tal murmurs with a nod. "I have people working on it, but I'm sure she's well." He waves a dismissive hand. "Can you tell me anything about the woman who has taken him in?"

"A mother from the refugee camps, your Worship. She has a young daughter, and is successfully nursing the orphan."

Tal's nose wrinkles, and he turns his head away. "Thank you for the update. You may leave."

Hesitating, she eventually nods. "Ser." With a shallow bow, she turns and leaves.

Tal pours the last of the wine into a glass and sips it as he sinks down against the pillows. His eyes slip closed, and then he is lost.

Later, between ravenous bites of his dinner—roast guineafowl, braised beans and greens—he gives Rhian a sack of dirty laundry, and tells her to incinerate it.

She does so, without question.


	2. Chapter 2

Solas is painting when Cole marches through the rotunda, muttering under his breath, "If they find out, oh creators if they find out, I cannot live."

"Cole?" he asks, laying down his brush on the palette and setting both on a nearby table. "Is something wrong?"

"Very wrong," Cole murmurs, beginning to pace back and forth near Solas's desk.

"What is it?"

"He needs me, that's why I can hear him, and he's darker now, not so bright, so I can see, but it hurts."

"Who needs you?" Solas's brows have drawn together.

Cole glances at him. "No."

Solas's eyebrows arch then. "No?"

"I can't tell you," Cole murmurs. "It wouldn't help. I need to help, but he won't let me."

"Are you sure that's what he needs?"

"No." Cole shakes his head. "I don't know, but it's what he wants, what he thinks will help, and all the time... he's so small, and so alone. Where has the world gone? He wants it back."

"This sounds like something you should share, Cole."

"How can you tell?" Cole tilts his head as he meets Solas's eyes, picking at his gloves.

"It has you upset, that's how I can tell." Solas stares at him evenly. "Can you not discuss this with the person in question?"

"I don't think that will help, either."

"You have to do something, this is causing you considerable discomfort, and I have no doubt that these feelings are causing their owner a lot of pain."

"They are, he aches all day and all night, wine is the only thing that brings him comfort, brings him rest, but he cannot help anyone like that and _that's what he has to do_."

-

"Your advisers are concerned about you," Rhian informs the Inquisitor the following morning when she brings him thin porridge. "They all send their best wishes, but I'm afraid I couldn't stop them from calling for the healer."

"I'll only see Adan," he says.

"I know, I told Lady Montilyet."

Adan arrives a few minutes later and kneels at Tal's bedside. "Is it the usual?" He asks.

Tal nods and extends a hand for the potion he knows is coming.

"A couple of spoonfuls when symptoms flare, three if they're worse than usual, but try not to drink the whole bottle again." Adan hands him the small flask and sets another on the nightstand.

"Thank you, Adan. I know you hate doing this, but I appreciate your help."

"You're not so bad," the healer says, patting Tal's leg. "I could do worse than one very important patient who only needs a potion every now and then."

"That is true," Tal reasons, swigging a mouthful of the potion straight from the bottle.

"Take care of yourself, Inquisitor." Adan rests a hand briefly on his shoulder as he stands up. "Take it easy for a few days."

"I will," he promises, and nods as Adan takes his leave.

"Do you need anything else, ser?" Rhian pipes up from the corner of the room.

"No, thank you." Tal waves a hand, and then pauses, his eyes moving to the fireplace. "Oh, actually, a little more firewood would be wonderful."

"Of course, ser." Rhian curtsies, and then hurries off with a bounce in her step.

Tal unfolds himself from the safety of the blankets, and sets his feet on the cold floor. He stands, and stretches, and winces at the tug on his insides. He kneels at the foot of the bed, rests his palms flat on the mattress, and closes his eyes.

"Ir abelas, Mother Mythal," Tal prays. "I have failed you."

"I tell myself my duties cannot allow my heart, but you know in truth, I am a traitor to your name." He takes a breath that tugs his chest too harshly and hunches his shoulders.

"I wear your marks but I don't feel them. I swore to protect, in your name, but I cannot... I cannot. I am but a child again, lost and pretending, and unable to understand what you would ever want from me." Swallowing hard, he pushes himself to his feet and paces across the room. "I can't be strong, I can't protect him. I'm too weak, too small, too insignificant, and he requires so much more, more than this child playing Inquisitor."

"I've turned my back on you, because I can do nothing else, but I ask you to forgive me, to be a mother to me now, even though I can't follow your example."

"Inquisitor?" Josephine's musical voice echoes up from the stairwell, and Tal takes a deep breath, hands clutching his knees.

He straightens before she comes into view.

"I just wanted to see how you were doing," she says brightly, "You've been... distracted, of late, and I was wondering if there was anything I could do to make things more comfortable for you."

Tal manages a smile, but it falls as quickly as it was summoned. "I'm fine, Ambassador, thank you, you do far more than enough for me already, and all of us. I won't add to your work."

Josephine purses her lips, and takes a cautious step further into the room. "Do you mind if I stay a while, then? Keep you company?"

Tal sits down on the edge of the bed and stares at his stained nightshirt, a pink flush rushing to his cheeks. "I'm really not in a fit state for company."

"Nonsense," she mutters with a smile that doesn't falter, "It's nothing if not my job to exaggerate your good qualities when you're not at your best."

Tal chuckles, and rakes a hand through his dark tangled hair. "That is true, I suppose."

Josephine sits down beside him. "I can't imagine the stresses we've put on you."

"You probably can, you work far harder than I do."

"Come now, Inquisitor. I don't have to travel all over Thedas fighting demons and closing tears into the Fade. I would much rather deal with the letters and complaints of nobles, the adornments of court."

Tal winces. "I wouldn't."

"At least we are in the positions that suit us best, then," Josephine says, "but I sense there is more than you're sharing, and I would like to better serve you as your adviser. Will you tell me?"

Tal glances at her, and takes a deep breath that heaves his whole body, his toes curl against the rug. "The Empress," he says, "I'm an elf from the Free Marches who's spent his entire life in the wilderness, the Winter Palace is only weeks away, and I have to talk my way through a ball to prevent the assassination of an Empress? Ask me how to skin a deer or navigate by the stars and I'll tell you, but I don't know anything about navigating the pitfalls of conversation with Orlesians, or dancing their fancy dances."

Josephine releases a short breath and smiles gently. "There is still time, Master Lavellan. Cullen, Leliana, and I will be there to guide you, and Cassandra of course."

"I know." Tal rests his elbows on his knees and leans forward. "I just worry. Everything is worry. Deciding the fates of empires was not what I thought I'd be doing when I set out from home to spy on your Conclave."

"Oh, yes, just the fate of the whole world, I suppose?"

Tal smirks, but the weight of exhaustion drags the expression away. "Don't remind me."

"I assure you we will be well-prepared by the time we go to the Winter Palace, at least, we will be as well-prepared as we can be in the circumstances," Josephine promises. "But please, try not to worry quite so much - allow me. You are not alone in this."

"I'll try," Tal murmurs with a nod. "And I'm sure I'll be back to usual in a couple of days. If anyone else is concerned, please tell them not to worry."

"I will, of course."

Tal gets to his feet and moves around the bed. "If you'll excuse me, I think I need to rest."

"Inquisitor." Josephine grants him a nod, and her dainty feet lead her to the stairs. "I'll return later with the news of the day, if you're amenable."

"I'm amenable," Tal answers. "Thank you, Josephine."

Bowing slightly, Josephine turns to leave. Tal smiles as he watches her go, but can't hold the expression long.

Soon, the potion begins to ease the cramps, as he returns beneath the gentle comfort of the blankets, and his eyes close. He misses the rest of his appointments for the day.

-

Skyhold does grow quiet sometimes, at night, when the cooks are sleeping and the refugees are fed and the soldiers have finished training. Tal uses the opportunity to sneak through the cold castle to the kitchens and steal some pork pies. He hasn't eaten all day.

"Why are you _lying_?" Cole's voice hisses in the dark, and Tal jumps.

"What?" Tension tightens visibly across his shoulders.

"You _know_." Cole steps closer and meets Tal's eyes, shaking his head over and over again. "Lost and alone, longing and left behind, he needs you, and you know he does, but you wander, lost, the same and your needs are so tangled in each other why are you not just _together_?" His eyes are round and bright beneath his hat, even in the dim lamp light. "No one else's heartbeat sounds the same, no other smell as warm, can calm the wound. He can't understand. Heart just too small to hold them!"

Tal stares at the spirit, breaths tugging hard at his lungs with every inhale as his eyes sting and begin to water.

"Solas says-"

"Solas?" Tal blinks, the name pulling him from his stasis, his eyes refocusing with renewed fire. "What about Solas? What did you tell Solas?"

"Nothing! I didn't-" Cole paces back and forth, just four steps, two left, two right, and again. "I need to help you."

"You can't help me, so stop trying."

"You linger all alone, looking, in the shadows, on the rim of things, without noticing they're looking at you, too."

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"They're there, listening and lonely as you are, and lingering in their own shadows, waiting for your words, your wounds, because that's what they want to do."

"I don't have time for this," Tal mutters, turning abruptly and marching towards the door.

"Just talk to them!" Cole calls after him. "That's all they want!"

"Cole!" Tal roars. "Stop." He begins to shake, his hands tighten on his plate, and reaches out for the wall to hold him. "Just stop."

Cole's brows wrinkle, his face grows shadowed as he steps away. "I'm sorry," he murmurs, "I'm so sorry." Taking a deep breath, he sighs, and his shoulders droop. "Forget."

Tal blinks, and glances around the empty kitchen, fading embers still smouldering in the hearth. His heart is pounding against his ribcage, but he can't remember why.

"Cole..." But his words fade into the empty kitchen. He goes back to bed with a full stomach, still so empty.


End file.
